


Down Time

by ceasefire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drinking & Talking, Future Fic, M/M, Nipple Play, Reunion Sex, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceasefire/pseuds/ceasefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hanzo pauses for a moment. "Are you listening?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"'Course I am," McCree says, words lisping around the tail end of his cigar. "We'll both be in Hanamura a week from today. Meet in the usual spot at nine. Put hotel rooms on the company tab, the safehouse is in use."</i></p><p> </p><p>Some time into the future, Hanzo and McCree meet after spending time apart on Overwatch jobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down Time

**Author's Note:**

> can't stop won't stop ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ bad title is bad though
> 
> Next I'll probably write some team-as-family or GenYatta fluff because Overfamily and GenYatta are Pure™
> 
> From one extreme to the other, right?

The time they spend together is sporadic at best and extensive at its worst; they get sent all over the world by Overwatch and rarely end up in the same place at the same time. On the rare occasions when they're close enough to meet, Hanzo tends to plan their every move with a sense of strictness and concentration that makes McCree tease. 

He's listening to Hanzo's voice from the other side of the world right now on his Overwatch communicator (probably not the use that Morrison had in mind when he handed them out, but the call is free and secure) and just smoking as Hanzo lists his plans like he's reading directly from an itinerary. He's mentally noting what Hanzo says, but even more than that he's enjoying hearing him talk and thinking about how good it will be to not hear it through a phone line.

Hanzo pauses for a moment. "Are you listening?"

"'Course I am," McCree says, words lisping around the tail end of his cigar. "We'll both be in Hanamura a week from today. Meet in the usual spot at nine. Put hotel rooms on the company tab, the safehouse is in use."

McCree's cigar reaches the end of its life and he tosses it onto the ground in front of him, stubbing the ashes out with the blood-stained toe of his boot.

"Anything else? You want a souvenir from Numbani? A nice omnic-human Unity Day fridge magnet or something?"

He hears the Hanzo equivalent of a long-suffering sigh through the communicator's ear piece -- a soft huff followed by a clearing of the throat -- and he smiles.

"I'm just teasing you, darlin'. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

The next week drags on, filled with pain in the ass missions, but McCree makes it to Hanamura with a severe case of jet lag and collapses into bed in the hotel room the moment he checks in. When he wakes up, he swears loudly at the digital clock on the bedside, smooths down his rumpled clothes and heads for the bar that Hanzo frequents while in Hanamura. Thankfully it's within walking distance of his hotel, and he arrives a fashionable five minutes late while trying his best to play it cool. 

Hanzo is sitting in his usual spot and seems to be annoying the owner of the bar by drinking mainly from his hip flask while picking at the free snacks that had been placed on his table. McCree smiles and heads over to join him, sliding into the booth next to him smoothly.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Hanzo licks his lips and takes another swig from his flask; judging by the colour in his cheeks, it seems that he arrived early himself. Funny how those things work, McCree thought.

Hanzo finishes drinking and looks McCree up and down. "Your hat is on backwards."

"Just checking if you'd notice," McCree says easily as he rights himself. Hanzo smiles in a way that suggests he knows otherwise. McCree can't even be bothered feeling annoyed at himself, because Hanzo's smile is just that damn pretty.

The barman comes to take McCree's order; he orders something that looks strong from the faded English menu in accented Japanese that makes Hanzo smile even more. His drink arrives promptly and he drinks almost the whole lot in one go. He sighs in satisfaction as it burns all the way down to his gut and leans back against the padded chair of the booth.

"Are you looking to catch up with me?" Hanzo asks, and when McCree gives him a confused look he adds, "Just because you were late does not mean you have to hurry."

"Come on now, I don't wanna hear that from you," McCree teases gently as he reaches for his cigars. "It's just been that sort of week. Makes me even gladder to be here now."

Hanzo hums in agreement and picks out a snack from the basket on the table, some sort of rice cracker wrapped in dried seaweed. McCree finishes his glass and signals for another.

"Let's not talk about work now," Hanzo says as he tears the plastic wrapper on the snack open. "We should be enjoying ourselves."

"Heh, well ain't this cheerful," McCree says, but he agrees with what Hanzo says. Working for Overwatch was fine -- sure beat rotting away in a jail cell, anyway -- but he wasn't going to pretend it was always easy, pretty work.

The night wears on and the alcohol flows until the troubles of their time apart were forgotten. Somewhere in the middle of a conversation about the last time most of the Overwatch crew had been together -- Numbani, during some celebration or another during which an omnic had thrown a bunch of multi-coloured bead necklaces at Hanzo and told him he had "nice tits", much to everyone's amusement -- McCree remembers the gift he'd gotten from the gift shop next to his hotel on his last assignment.

"Here, the souvenir I promised you," McCree says. Hanzo's expression is dubious, and McCree can't blame him, because the keyring that says "I celebrated human-omnic unity in Numbani, Africa" is just as gaudy and cringe-worthy as you'd expect it to be. Hanzo's expression is even more deadpan when he reads it, and he glances between it and McCree as if demanding an explanation.

"They were out of magnets, sorry," McCree says, and Hanzo shakes his head and empties his glass of plum wine.

"You are a ridiculous man."

"You know better than anyone else," McCree replies, and Hanzo smiles just a little. McCree looks around, doing a quick sweep of the bar; he hasn't noticed anyone watching them, and the only people left aside from them seem to be a handful of businessmen at the bottom of their bottles of booze. Better safe than sorry, because any connection could be exploited as weakness by the agents of Talon. Figuring that the bar seems safe enough, McCree leans over and nuzzles his nose against the soft greying hairs at Hanzo's temple; there were more of them now than when they'd first met, both the stresses of the job and the natural flow of time taking their toll. Hanzo wears it well, though, and McCree smiles against the other man's skin and slides his arm around his waist as he feels him lean into the touch.

The bar is starting to wind down; two of the other patrons have stumbled out and left only Hanzo, McCree and one other man who looks like he might be too drunk to walk. The barman has turned up the sound on the small television above the bar and is watching the end of a baseball game while polishing the glasses. McCree is so distracted by his surroundings that at first he doesn't notice Hanzo's hand resting on his thigh, but he almost jumps in his seat as it slides higher. 

"Hey now," he says softly, "you can't go startling a man like that. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"And yet you're still very much the same," Hanzo murmurs, and McCree feels his fingers drumming against his knee.

They're silent for a moment, for as long as McCree can bear, but the alcohol is warm in his belly and free of inhibition in his head as he brushes his lips against the shell of Hanzo's ear.

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine," Hanzo replies immediately. "You have terrible taste in hotels. The last one's bed was so uncomfortable that I woke up feeling twenty years older the next day."

"Alright, darlin'," McCree replies, not bothering to mention that he was staying in the same hotel this time too. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

It's cold out when they finally leave the bar; it seems to bother Hanzo less than McCree though, even with one arm and half of his chest exposed. They make one stop on the way back so Hanzo can buy cigarettes from a vending machine -- coffee flavour or something equally ridiculous, if McCree judges by the picture on the front -- and he smokes two of them on the way back to the hotel. When they get back to the room, which is definitely much nicer than McCree's, he immediately goes to shower and by the time he emerges, hair down and damp and wearing nothing but a towel, he looks near-sober. McCree hasn't quite gotten that far; he's managed to take off his shoes and hat and fall face-up on the bed, but that's the extent of it. He probably smells like stale smoke, alcohol and his eighteen hour flight from Africa, but Hanzo doesn't seem to care in the least because a moment later the towel is gone and he's sitting astride McCree's lap, breathing through parted lips.

"Well, ain't this a nice surprise," McCree murmurs, metallic arm running smooth down Hanzo's skin from tattooed shoulder to hip.

"You cannot expect me to show restraint for very much longer," Hanzo breathes, cock already half-hard and hips lazily rolling against McCree's. "I missed you, Jesse."

McCree loses his voice for a second, throat choked up a little too much for speech to be comfortable, but in that time he draws Hanzo down against his chest and kisses him deep, hand on the nape of his neck so that there's barely space between them to breathe when their lips part.

"I know, darlin'. I'll take care of you."

The needy moan that escapes Hanzo's throat makes McCree wish dearly that he had bothered to get undressed, but there was no space for that now with Hanzo sitting with his full weight in his lap. This is fine, McCree thinks, and he raised his metallic hand to Hanzo's lips. Hanzo sucks them greedily, wetting two fingers enough to be of temporary use before spreading his legs a little wider on either side of McCree's hips. 

"Relax, alright?" McCree says, and Hanzo nods and rolls his hips as if urging him wordlessly to hurry up. Satisfied, McCree presses one finger into Hanzo, up to the second knuckle, and he smiles as Hanzo's cock jumps against his stomach. The other man is quiet at first, trying to keep himself under control, but part of the reason that Hanzo was so damn gorgeous was the way he lost control gradually, as if his inhibitions had to be worked through one by one. It took less time now than years ago when Hanzo was more weighed down with guilt and regret, but it was still a wonder to behold.

It only took a short time for the spit to dry out, and McCree stops the moment he feels the friction. Hanzo huffs a little as he withdraws, and McCree chuckles.

"I ain't gonna do anything that'll hurt you. You know that."

Hanzo sits up and points to the nearby bedside table. "In there."

"Should've expected you to be ready," McCree says, reaching over awkwardly to fish the supplies out of the drawer. He notices the stain of precum on his shirt a second later, and points it out to a slightly sheepish Hanzo.

"Mind if I get undressed? I’ve gotta walk out of here in these clothes tomorrow, you know."

"Quickly," Hanzo replies, a little short on patience apparently. McCree unbuttons his shirt and Hanzo tugs his pants down to his knees and leaves them there, the sound of belt buckle clicking roughly making McCree wince.

"Hey, be careful with that."

"It's ridiculous anyway," Hanzo says.

"Should never have let Hana tell you what BAMF means. I'll never hear the end of it now," McCree teases, and Hanzo silences him with a kiss that's just a little bit rougher than McCree is used to. A few seconds later his flesh palm is full of slick courtesy of Hanzo, and McCree is doing his best to run it down his fingers so he can get back to opening Hanzo up. He manages it eventually, and Hanzo opens up for him nice and easy like always, taking two fingers from the start and barely clamping down around them at all. McCree twists his hand as much as he can from the awkward angle; Hanzo moans and bites down on the soft flesh between shoulder and neck as he falls forward onto McCree's chest again. McCree presses a third finger in briefly, mostly to make sure that Hanzo was the right amount of open to take his cock. Hanzo usually liked that slight hint of burn from being just that little bit under-prepared, but McCree isn't about to take it any further than that. Of course Hanzo is ready though, nice and relaxed for him, and McCree eases his hand free from inside him with care.

"Just let me get myself ready," McCree breathes, fumbling with the cap on the bottle of lube until Hanzo loses patience and takes it off him.

"Let me," Hanzo says, squeezing entirely too much of the lubrication into his hand and reaching behind himself to slick down McCree's cock. Hips jerking up at the contact, McCree opens his mouth to tell Hanzo to hurry, but the other man is ahead of him. Hanzo never lets go of his cock, and instead guides it to press against him before letting his entire weight drop down with a single, precise movement. McCree's hips rolled forward, but there's no space left between them for him to really move. Hanzo is staring at him, eyes glazed and cock leaking wet as he begins to move. It's times like these that McCree realises how damn lucky he is to have this man in his life and in his bed, and he wonders what the hell he did to deserve Hanzo Shimada. The other man is perfect, riding his cock with a single-minded desperation, not touching himself at all to extend the pleasure for both of them. McCree can't help but want to mess up that plan though, and he reaches with both hands to hold Hanzo's hips and then slides them both to his chest, roughly pinching at his nipples with thumbs and forefingers. Hanzo lets out a choked cry and the hotel sheets make a suspicious tearing sound as Hanzo's prosthetic feet do the equivalent of curled toes. McCree feels him clench down around his cock, but the other man reaches down to grasp the base of his cock and hold off his climax.

"Jesse," Hanzo hisses breathlessly, eyes narrowing from behind the dark strands of hair that have fallen loosely in front of his face, and McCree smirks back.

"Can't help but touch you when you look this pretty."

Hanzo's expression softens a little, but changes to one of pleasure as McCree gets back to playing with his chest, gently tugging and circling the sensitive flesh as Hanzo reflexively tightens around him. 

Hanzo is so tight and hot around his cock that by the time McCree realises he's close, it's too late to warn Hanzo properly; he manages to gasp "gonna come" a second before his hips jerk up into the warmth of Hanzo's body and he empties his load inside of him. Hanzo looks a little annoyed at that, and McCree figures the best way to make it up to him is to get him off. 

"Lift your hips, darlin'. Yeah, that's it," McCree groans as his cock slips out of Hanzo. He replaces it with his flesh fingers almost immediately, wrinkling his nose a bit as his own cum runs down his hand but loving the feeling of Hanzo around his fingers. The other man cries out, overstimulated as McCree's metallic thumb circles his areola before giving his nipple a rough tug. A few more sharp jabs of his fingers and Hanzo groans tiredly, falling boneless against McCree's chest as his cum spills between them.

"Darlin', you are so damn gorgeous," McCree says breathlessly, and Hanzo hums, content against his chest as he reaches for both of McCree's hands with his own without even getting up.

“The contrast when you touch me is... good. You will be the death of me, Jesse.”

Well, McCree isn't going to knock back a compliment like that.

Clean up can come later; their sleep is going to be erratic from jet lag anyway, and so McCree just lets Hanzo lie against him, pliant and happy. McCree kisses the crown of his head and runs his hand through Hanzo's loose hair, feeling the happiest he's felt in months. 

Damned if he wasn't the luckiest man on earth right now.


End file.
